


All Just a Matter of Time

by tryslora



Series: Time Enough [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Derek and Laura are Twins, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles’s timer has been blank since he got it, until <i>tonight</i>, when it not only started working, it’s flashing zeroes. He’s going to meet his soulmate <i>right now</i>. This is going to be the best night of his <i>life</i>!</p><p>Derek doesn't necessarily believe in timers, but he was drunk, and they were there, and it was a spur of the moment decision. Now this whiskey-eyed boy has stumbled into his arms and there's just one problem... Derek's <i>straight</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Just a Matter of Time

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was out sick this week and I watched _Timers_ and now I know where all those timer soulmate fics come from. And I couldn’t resist writing my own. I just wish I had the time to write something as clever a commentary on love and destiny as the movie is. And of course, as always, I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.
> 
> [ **ETA 2014-09-21:** Added end notes.]

“Dude!” Scott grabs Stiles, swings him into a hug. “Tonight is going to be fucking _brilliant_! We are going to go out, we are going to have a fucking blast, and I am going to meet _the one_.”

“Technically it could have been at any point today,” Stiles reminds him. “The timer only tells you what day, not exactly what moment.” He’s been keeping an eye out for Scott all day today, trailing after him on campus when he didn’t have his own classes, waiting to hear the particular sound of the timer alarm. They’ve been friends since they were barely old enough to play in a sandbox, and they got their timers at the exact same time when they turned eighteen. Stiles is almost as anxious as Scott is, wanting to see his best friend end up happy.

The fact that Stiles’s timer is blank, and has always been blank, has absolutely _nothing_ to do with it.

He will be there to support Scott and to be the designated driver because this is _Scott’s night_ , no matter what.

It takes six tries before Scott’s dressed in a way that they both agree is both comfortable and yet hot enough for meeting the girl of his dreams, but Stiles finally manages to get him bundled into the Jeep and drive them to the club where they’re meeting up with a bunch of other folks from their classes.

“Cora got the back room for us.” Stiles grabs onto Scott’s arm and drags him through the club. “We don’t have to stay there, but it gives us a place to leave our shit. And have pitchers of drinks delivered.”

He has no idea how many people are actually going to be there—Cora and Lydia of course, and they’ve invited a slew of people in hopes that maybe one of their huge, extended group of friends is going to turn out to be Scott’s _one_. It’s going to be huge and confusing, and Stiles wishes he could have at least a drink or two to get through it.

“Stiles!” Cora hugs him hard, kisses him with a loud smack on the cheek. Then she gets a wicked grin and grabs Scott, dragging him off into the crowd of strangers.

“She’s invited most of the freshman class, about half of the sophomores, and several from other classes, including graduate students and, I believe, her entire family.” Lydia leans in to talk directly to him, so he can hear her despite the loud music. “She figures someone will be here by midnight who’s the right one.”

“Not all of us can walk into our freshman biology lecture and sit down next to the love of our life and end up being cheered on by two hundred people when they hear the alarm go off,” Stiles says dryly. Lydia and Cora are legends in their class—together for six months now, ever since that first Monday eight o’clock lecture.

He looks out where Cora has one arm around Scott’s shoulder—and _damn_ he can’t even feel bad that this is who Lydia ended up with because she’s so _perfect_ —then twists his own wrist up. “Some of us don’t even know…” His voice trails off. “Um. Lydia?”

She looks down, following the path of his gaze to where his timer is flashing zeroes. “You didn’t tell me your timer started!”

“It didn’t.” His tone is flat. Confused. “It _didn’t_. It was still blank yesterday and blank this morning. I swear it was blank _ten minutes ago_.”

Lydia reaches up, cups his face. “Stiles. Someone out there just got a timer, and you are going to meet them. Tonight.”

It doesn’t seem possible, and it definitely isn’t probable. If he asked, Lydia could probably calculate the precise odds of this exact thing happening, but he doesn’t want to know, not right now.

Right now he wants to forget this is happening because it’s too big and he’s not ready. And besides, this is _Scott’s_ night.

He hears the chime, somehow louder than the music before the DJ dials it back so that everyone can hear. It’s a timer. It’s a cause for celebration and there are people shouting and embracing and Stiles is on the wrong side of the room but he can still see the poleaxed expression on his best friend’s face. He can see the stupid smile, and the way Scott wavers uncertainly, a little shy as he walks away with a girl with long brown curls.

“Her name is Allison,” Lydia says quietly, and Stiles files that away. He’s going to need to remember it for his best man speech, somewhere down the road.

#

“We’re late.” Isaac’s words are slightly slurred, and it makes Derek laugh.

“I have not made us late,” he reminds him. “Laura made us late. This is all _Laura’s_ fault.”

Because it _is_. Derek and Isaac never would have stopped at that place. They never would have even set _foot_ in that place if it weren’t for Laura and Erica and Boyd and the way Laura _supported_ her best friends getting timers together to prove to the world that they’re meant for each other.

Which they are. Of course.

The moment Erica and Boyd both had timers, they lit up and started ringing, and everyone in the fucking place cheered. And they all drank a toast, then another toast, then another drink on top of the three they’d already had before they ever went in the first place.

And next thing Derek knows, he and Isaac are signing contracts and paying to have their own timers inserted.

They both zeroed out immediately.

Neither of them rang.

“It’s a glitch,” the technician had assured them. “The alarm must be—”

“It’s okay,” Isaac had responded with a laugh. “We’re not actually together. More like brothers. It would have been weird.”

But that means that somewhere out there, somehow, they are meeting their soul mates tonight. The thought of it makes Derek start laughing all over again.

Laura leans into him, her hand over his heart to feel the rumble. “I didn’t think you’d do it,” she says quietly. “I thought after Paige, and Kate…”

Not to mention what happened to _her_. Derek had gone with Laura when she turned eighteen and wanted her timer _right now_. He’d watched how it said _sixteen days_ to start, and had watched it count down.

He’d been sitting there with her when it turned blank with one day to go.

They never found out what happened to her soulmate—whether he got the timer removed, or if he’d died. They never even knew who it was. Derek had told her to get it removed, so she didn’t have to see the reminder, but Laura still swears she keeps it because who knows, maybe someday it will start up again.

Derek necessarily doesn’t believe in timers, but he believes in Laura’s heart, and he hopes that for her sake, it does.

He twists his wrist around, looking at the zeroes and thinking about the way it never counted, not once, just bleebled it’s little warbling noise then stopped. A one in a million thing to happen, and it happened to Isaac as well.

Either that or they both got timers from a bad batch. Derek figures either one is just as likely.

The limo pulls up outside a club, and when Derek asks why they’re _there_ of all places, Laura laughs and reminds him that Cora invited them and apparently Erica _promised_ someone with a name Derek doesn’t catch that they’d be there. Something about someone’s _one_.

“Apparently it’s a timer themed night,” Isaac says dryly. “Maybe his _one_ is you or me?”

Derek almost laughs because his timer isn’t a guy. He’s straight. Isaac, on the other hand… he could see that.

They push their way through the crowd toward the back room, just in time to meet up with a guy and girl stumbling out, hand in hand as they head to the dance floor. Isaac catches them both, helps them stand, and a cacophony sounds.

The music dies, and a loud whoop goes up.

“That’s impossible,” the girl says.

“Nothing’s impossible. Just highly improbable.” The guy grins and it reminds Derek of a puppy the way he looks at Isaac, like he’d like to rub all over him. He hasn’t let go of the girl, though, and if Derek’s right, there are _three_ timers ringing all at once.

He elbows Isaac once, quick and sharp to the ribs. Laura snorts.

“I’m Isaac.” He stands there, all long limbs and awkward, before he remembers to stick one hand out, not sure which person to offer it to first.

“I’m Scott, and this is Allison.” Scott doesn’t take his hand to shake, rather uses it to pull Isaac forward until the three of them stumble together into an awkward hug. “And this is _amazing_.”

“The timers are broken,” Derek mutters as he watches Isaac trail off after the couple and onto the dance floor. They somehow fit together, the three of them dancing all at once, and it makes no _sense_ to his brain.

“Just because it’s not your type of relationship doesn’t mean it isn’t perfect for Isaac.” Laura flicks him on the back of the head. “You just don’t believe in love.”

Derek snarls at her, lip curled up tight. “I believe in love, Laura. I _had_ love, and she _died_ in my arms and it was my own fault. I crashed the car that night.”

“And Kate?” Laura squeezes his hand. “Kate wasn’t your fault at all.”

Kate was something unique, Derek could admit that. He knows that what happened after that relationship ended had nothing to do with him, and he knew he had never loved her as much as she claimed to love him. But he knew love. He’d had it, and he’d lost it, all before he was even old enough for a timer.

There’s a reason why he’d never bothered. “I shouldn’t have gotten this. It’s probably flashing zeroes because I already met my—”

“If it had been Paige, it would be blank,” Laura reminds him, tone sharper than he expects. Because of course, she _knows_.

His expression gentles. “Sorry, I just—I’m drunk, and not thinking, and…” He reaches out automatically, catching the guy who stumbles against him on the way by, drink spilling down Derek’s shirt. He loses track of his words in the sudden sound, and the cheer that goes up around them when Derek’s timer sings out in concert with the one on this guy’s wrist.

Whiskey eyes stare at him in befuddled confusion. “You?” the guy says.

The _guy_ says.

Derek drops him, watches him flail his way to standing again. The sound of the timer fades, and Derek just glares at Laura. “I told you: _they don’t work_ ,” he growls. He twists in space, one arm out to give himself room so that he can get out of here. That’s just fucking cruel, both to him and the other guy. If Isaac’s got a shit deal, being linked to two people instead of _the one_ , then Derek’s is even worse, sticking him to someone he is _never_ going to love, not like that.

#

Stiles isn’t sure what just happened.

An hour ago, his timer was blank. He’d had it since he turned eighteen and it was _blank_ , then next thing he knew it was flashing zeroes like he’s going to meet his true love any second.

Then _this_.

First Scott’s timer goes off _twice_ within thirty minutes for two different people, then Stiles crashes into some guy with a timer who _walks out on him_.

He stands there, his empty cup in his hands, the sour smell of beer on the air, and he has no idea what to do. His timer stops chiming and the music starts up again, and Stiles is sure everyone’s staring at him.

There’s a napkin patting spilled beer from his arm, and when he looks, the woman holding it smiles.

“Derek’s an ass,” she offers.

“Great,” Stiles mutters. “Just great. Usually I get more of a chance to make a bad first impression before people hate me. Hating me after one quick spillage accident? Not normal. There are so many more things to hate about me, just give me time. Except don’t, because he _walked away_.”

She licks her lips, presses them together like she has something to say that Stiles really isn’t going to want to hear. “Derek’s straight,” she says quietly. “Or at least, he thinks he is. Obviously he’s not, not if you two…” She moves her finger between Stiles’s chest and into the air to indicate wherever Derek went. “I’m Laura, by the way. His twin.”

“I’m Stiles.” He manages to offer her his hand and remembers to let go when they’re done shaking. “The overgrown puppy in the current threesome floor show is my best friend. I’d chase after your brother, except I’m his designated driver tonight. Scott’s met his _one_ ; he’s allowed to get as drunk as he wants.” Stiles glances at where Scott is dancing with both the girl from before and the tall guy from just a few minutes ago and he sighs. “Okay, he met his _two_. How does that even happen?”

“Rarely,” Laura says. “There’s a half percent chance of any match actually being non-monogamous in a perfect triad. There’s actually a larger chance, although still only about one percent, of a match for three being the three equal sides of the triangle—so A love B who loves C who loves A. Give then way things were chiming, I think they’ve got the former, not the latter.”

Stiles smiles wryly. “Of course. Scott deserves it, he really does. I mean, I’m glad for him.”

“Laura! Stiles! You met!” Cora throws herself at the two of them, wrapping herself around Laura. “I’m so glad you came, Laura. Where’s Derek? And Stiles! I heard ringing and Lydia told me your timer zeroed and did you meet your _one_?” Her eyes open almost comically wide and Stiles wonders exactly how much she’s had to drink already. “Oh my God, is it _Laura_?”

Laura’s laugh is strained but her tone is gentle as she extricates herself from Cora. “No, Stiles isn’t my _one_ , you know that, Cora.” She carefully sets Cora back on her feet, steadying her with one hand against the small of her back. “I take it Stiles is one of Lydia’s friends then?”

“One of her _best_ friends,” Cora corrects. “Why is Scott dancing with a guy?”

“Because he has two _ones_ ,” Stiles says dryly. “And mine? Mine hates me. Hates my guts on first sight. It’s impressive, really.”

“I didn’t like you much the first time I met you,” Cora points out. “You grew on me. Like fungus. Particularly once Lydia told me that if we were ever going to have sex again, I had to find something to like about you. And as it turns out, you are an incredibly likable person.”

Stiles opens his mouth, closes it again. “Honestly, I really wish you hadn’t said that, Cora, because now I will never know if you actually like me, or just tolerate me because Lydia does insane things with her tongue for you.”

“Both.” Cora grins. She looks back at Laura and raises her eyebrows, waiting. “So, where’s your twin? Or did my big brother ditch before getting here?”

“That would be the one that hates me,” Stiles tells her. “So I am right now two for two on hate at first sight from Hales—Laura, if you hate me and you could keep that to yourself, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to go check on Scott, make sure I can come back and get him later, and head out for a little while to lick my wounds. Metaphorically speaking; there will be no actual licking going on.”

“Stiles, you just need to give him—”

“Derek doesn’t have a timer.” Cora interrupts Laura, but Laura drags her away, speaking quietly and Stiles takes the chance to escape.

It only takes a few minutes to explain the whole sorry mess to Lydia and Erica, who promise to watch over Scott and his newfound soulmates. Then Stiles is free to go outside into the open air and catch his breath, blinking back the tears that shouldn’t even be there because honestly, this is all too much and too fast, and he hadn’t even expected to deal with it today.

Coffee. He needs coffee and maybe something sugary to eat and there’s a great place down the street; Stiles can just hang out there until it’s time to pick Scott up. It’ll be quiet and safe and he can almost pretend his life is still sane.

#

Derek knows the minute he comes in. Maybe it’s because he’s still a little drunk and he’s listening to his instincts. Maybe he’s somehow attuned to the guy (he is _not_ attuned to the guy). But he looks up from his corner table and spots him walking in, whiskey eyes gone dark and hooded, hair sticking up all over the place, a faint sheen of sweat still slick on his skin from the heat of the club.

He goes back to looking at his phone, refusing to watch him and pretending he doesn’t listen to his coffee order (tall mocha, light, with whip and a giant chocolate chip cookie). Derek simply stares at his phone, as if 2048 is the most fascinating thing ever, until a shadow falls over his table.

“I’m Stiles,” the guy says. “And you’re Derek, and according to your twin, you’re an ass. Which is fine, because most people seem to think I am too.”

Derek slides tiles to the left, watching the 128s combine into a 256.

“See, my timer was blank yesterday.” Stiles breaks off a piece of his cookie—Derek _isn’t_ watching, he can see it out of the corner of his eye. “But my buddy Scott—he was all set to meet his soulmate today. And even though we knew he might meet her on campus, we figured we’d go out to a club tonight, put him somewhere that he could meet a lot of people, and see what happened. And funny thing about that? He met two people. Two timers, one guy and one girl, and damn it, my best friend has _two_ soulmates.” Stiles turns the cup in his hand, the paper sliding roughly against the wood tabletop.

“I’m happy for him,” Stiles says. “I am. I mean, I didn’t have any expectations about tonight, and my timer’s been blank for a long time. I just figured that maybe I’d meet someone who didn’t believe in timers, who was just looking for love to happen the old fashioned way. And we’d have some good sex, some good fights, and maybe we’d fall for each other. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m just not destined to meet someone, or maybe they died before they turned eighteen. I didn’t know, and I tried not to care. But then tonight my timer suddenly stopped being blank. And not only was it not _blank_ , but it was zeroed. I was all set to meet my _one_ on the same damned night as my best friend. How cool is that? Astronomical odds, I figured.”

He pauses to take a chunk of cookie and dunk it into the coffee, long fingers reaching into the cup to reach the liquid. Derek gives up on his game, watching those fingers instead, fascinated as Stiles brings the piece of cookie to his mouth and sucks the coffee from it before eating it. “So yeah, my timer goes off when I bump into this guy and spill beer all over him—sorry about that, by the way, the place was crowded and I’m not exactly coordinated in the best of situations. And this guy, he takes one look at me, and I’m so fucking hideous and well, not female, that he runs away. And I’m like _fuck that shit_ because now I’m having the worst night and my buddy’s still dancing with two people that he’s going to fall head over heels in love with, and I’m stuck. My timer’s trying to tell me that I’m the perfect match for a guy who isn’t even into dick. So I figure I’ll go soak my sorrow in caffeine and sugar and when I walk into my favorite coffee shop, my heart starts racing and I’m wondering why and then I see him. Sitting in the corner. Ignoring me. It’s that same damned guy. So since I’m kind of an asshole—I warned you, right?—I decide to go sit with him and tell him my story. Not that I actually expect him to _care_ , but it’s kind of like closure for me. Before I walk out and just put all this shit behind me.”

Stiles chews on his lower lip, sighs. “See, I fell in love with this girl when I was fourteen. That’s Lydia, your sister Cora’s soulmate. And I thought maybe that Scott—that’s my best friend—might be the _one_ , but when we got our timers, his started counting down and mine stayed blank. But the thing is, it was easier to lose _them_. It was easier to realize that I wasn’t _theirs_ and that maybe there wasn’t anyone out there, than it was to be flat out rejected because I’ve got the wrong body parts. And I’m not saying I expect you to go gay for me.” Stiles looks at him briefly, before dropping his gaze. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not the _right_ one for you. And I hope you find someone without a timer who is as right as it gets.”

“She died,” Derek says softly, before he can think better of it. He doesn’t want to tell his story to this person he barely knows. He doesn’t want to let the timer think it can control his life. He shouldn’t have let anyone talk him into it—alcohol or no alcohol. Just because they were all high on how in love Boyd and Erica were… it was no reason to leap in. “I already met the one that wasn’t the one, and she died when we were sixteen and a drunk driver came out of nowhere. It was later than I was supposed to be driving, it was raining, and they were so drunk they couldn’t even get out of the car without help. And I loved her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Derek doesn’t know quite what to do with the man sitting opposite him, long fingers deftly picking apart a chocolate chip cookie and dropping the crumbs on the table. He reaches out, covers Stiles’s hands to halt the damage. “I thought you were going to eat that.”

Stiles looks at it like it’s poison and shakes his head. “Not any more, no. I just… tonight’s been rough, and I think I’ve lost my appetite.” He twists his fingers, pressing the cookie against Derek’s hand. “You can have it if you want it.”

Derek holds the cookie and Stiles’s hand both until Stiles pulls away and leaves him with the crumbling sweet. “Thanks.” He’s sure he should say something else, try to explain. “I never wanted a timer. Paige _died_ and I knew nothing was going to happen if I got a timer. It’d just be blank until I died, so I figured I’d fall in love on my own. I dated Kate in college—”

“How old _are_ you, dude?”

Derek blinks at the interruption. “Twenty-five. I’m working on my PhD in History and Classical Literature.”

Stiles’s eyes go wide. “That’s not what I was expecting. The whole leather look does not imply professor of moldy books.” He makes a face. “Did I mention that I’m an ass? That was rude.”

“A few times, yes.” Derek smiles slightly, the expression going away as Stiles makes a motion and mentions Kate again. “Kate… I dated her three years ago, and she wanted me to go get a timer with her. I refused, and she took it out on me, Laura, she went after Cora when she came out to see us. I had to get a restraining order against her and she still tried to burn my dorm down.”

“I can understand if you’ve sworn off dating after that, but I swear, I’m not going to burn anything down.” Stiles taps his cup on the table. “I just—”

“I don’t believe in the timers,” Derek says. He needs to get that out there, needs to make sure Stiles understands. “I only got one tonight because I was drinking and it was a spur of the moment decision. We were at the place because Erica and Boyd _knew_ they were right for each other, and they got theirs and the alarms went off immediately. Then Isaac and I decided to get ours and it was a stupid spur of the moment thing. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Stiles leans back, expression shuttered. “If you hadn’t done it, I would have had no idea what you were to me when I met you,” he says quietly. “And you would have had no idea. And we would have gone on being absolutely nothing and no one to each other aside from having friends in common. I might have seen you again when Cora and Lydia tie the knot after we graduate, but probably not other than that. And you would’ve been happy. But me? I would’ve been miserable. Because my timer would still be blank, and I’d still be wondering if there was someone out there, or if they’d died already.”

“Are you any less miserable now?” It’s an honest question; Derek can read the pain in his eyes.

Stiles laughs, pushing his chair back. “You have a point. Derek.” He says the name like he’s trying to fix it in his memory, trying to prove that he knows it. That maybe he’ll remember it. “Because I don’t know many people who are actively _rejected_ by their soulmate. I’ve never met someone else who ended up matched to someone who had entirely the wrong sexuality. This is supposed to be—it’s supposed to be the best night of my life, and instead all it’s done is prove that there is _no one_ out there. _No one_. So yeah, you have a point. And I’m sorry my life impinged on yours, and I’m sorry I dumped beer down your shirt, and I’m _sorry_ you bothered to get a timer only to find out that your perfect match is someone like _me_. I’m _sorry_ , Derek.” He drinks the last of the coffee, leaves the cup on the table. “Goodbye.”

#

After three weeks, Stiles has almost adjusted to the situation he’s stuck in. He has a potential date planned for the weekend with  this girl from his freshman comp class, and he’s getting used to being sexiled from his dorm room by any combination of Scott, Isaac, and Allison. He spends more time with Lydia, until he realizes that it means spending time with Cora as well and he can’t stand her pitying looks or attempts to explain.

So he avoids them all and tries to make a new path in his life and pretend that he’s timeless, that the flashing zeroes on his wrist don’t mean anything at all.

He’s sitting in the coffee shop in the library, his laptop open in front of him, when someone sets a cup down on the table next to him.

“Tall mocha,” Derek says quietly. “Light, with whip. They didn’t have chocolate chip cookies, but on the other hand, I didn’t really want to give you anything you could throw at me, either.”

“Great. Perfect.” Stiles closes the laptop, reaches down to slide it into his bag. “Thanks for the coffee, now leave me alone. We don’t need to rub salt in the wound, okay? It’s bad enough that I have to see your sister all the time, and she seems to think she should apologize for your behavior. I think it’s because of her plans for summer, something about us all getting a beach house.”

“Our uncle has a house on the beach. Sometimes we take it over for a few weeks. He lets us as long as we restock everything before we leave.” Derek shrugs. “Cora said she wanted to bring friends.”

“If you’ll be there, I won’t go.” It had sounded like a fun time, but Stiles doesn’t need to be stuck in close quarters with the constant reminder that the timer had failed him. The coffee, on the other hand—he’s not going to reject a gift of caffeine. He opens the lid, sniffs it to make sure it really is what Derek said, then blows on it slightly so he doesn’t burn his tongue on first sip.

“You should go,” Derek tells him. He leans forward, hands on the table, close to Stiles, watching him intently enough that Stiles feels it. Stiles bites his lip, and Derek’s gaze drops to his mouth. “We should both go.”

“To the beach house?” Stiles shakes his head. “Dude, you don’t need to be selfless. It’s your family thing and I’m not _that_ much of an asshole. I won’t intrude.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Stiles looks at him. Stares and waits until Derek looks back up and meets his gaze. _Fuck_ , that was the wrong move, because honestly, who is this guy? It’s not fair, between the jawline and the eyes of strange indeterminate hazel color, and the way his eyebrows move like they have a language of their own. Cora is pretty, but Derek is ridiculously striking, the kind of guy that Stiles couldn’t forget before, and is now going to have to start all over again trying to erase him from his brain.

“What _are_ you saying?” Stiles asks slowly. Because he doesn’t get why they’re even having this conversation.

Derek is silent for a long moment. Long enough for Stiles to take a long gulp of too-hot coffee and burn the back of his tongue. Long enough that Stiles thinks that maybe the conversation is over and he should just get up and leave, get on with the forgetting already. Long enough that—

“I’m saying that I’m willing to try.”

Stiles stares, mouth slightly open. Derek quirks one eyebrow up, and Stiles nods rapidly, trying to say _yes_ before Derek changes his mind. “Try? Us? This? Yes, fuck yes, I’m in. I’m more than willing to try. Because you—me—this is a perfect situation. The timers say so. And let me tell you, if you haven’t tried dick, I will be the best first experience you have ever had, because my mouth—”

He stops when Derek puts a finger against his lips. “Stop, Stiles. I said _try_. I didn’t say jump into bed, and you’re going to have to give me time. Be patient. Do you think you can do that?”

Patience is not a virtue that Stiles considers one of his strong suits, but he can _try_. He nods, then lips at the finger that’s _right there_ , catching the tip of it and touching it with his tongue. He does it again, swiping his tongue around the curve of Derek’s finger tip, waiting for him to pull it back and grinning when he doesn’t.

Derek flushes and finally pulls away.

“I can do that,” Stiles agrees. “As long as you don’t mind that I’m the kind of asshole who will be trying to tempt you with teasing physicality, because _dude_. You’re giving me a chance, and if I’m the one to change what you want out of life, that is going to be _awesome_.”

“I’m giving _us_ a chance,” Derek counters. “And I’ve been thinking, maybe the timers mean something after all. Maybe just because I never considered something doesn’t mean it’s not _possible_. I’m just hoping we don’t have something epicly horribly happen in our relationship.”

“No car crashes, no fires,” Stiles promises, because he can _do_ that. He can’t promise that they won’t fight, or that he won’t trip and fall and do something ridiculously stupid, but he can promise not to destroy things. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and he tilts his head. “We should seal the promise.”

One eyebrow goes up and Derek offers his hand, but Stiles grins and shakes his head.

“I was thinking something else.” He tangles his fingers with Derek’s and tugs, his other hand coming up to touch the back of Derek’s neck, not too hard, just enough to guide him but Derek could escape if he wants to. He pulls him just close enough for Stiles to lean in and brush lips against lips. A soft touch. A _promise_. His tongue flicks out, and he hears a low sound that has him smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. “Okay?” he asks, and his voice is more hoarse than he thinks it ought to be.

Derek’s eyes are hooded, the pupils wider than before and he just stays _right there_ for a long moment, staring at Stiles’s lips. Then he nods once, slowly. “Okay,” he says. “I’m okay.” He squeezes Stiles’s hand where they’re still linked, then lowers their hands to the table, still holding on. “I think we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m glad you randomly decided to get your timer,” Stiles says, because now he _is_. Otherwise he might never have known, might never have even taken a chance. And now… now that Derek’s smiling slightly, saying that he’s glad too, he’s thinking that Derek’s right: they’re going to be okay.

It might take time, but everything’s going to be just right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for stopping by! If you'd like to find me (and come talk to me! I don't bite unless asked!), I'm [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com).
> 
> As a quick explanation, this story was written for prompt #86 at fullmoon_ficlet on LJ. I started writing the story while out ill on Thursday, and it was due by end of day on Friday which meant I had to have it finished and posted by lunchtime for me, even when I went back to work, so I was working on a major time crunch. I would love love LOVE to expand on this 'verse further in the future, and do hope to come back to it (I'm adding a series membership for it to remind myself). So yes, the story rushes, I needed to get it finished within basically one day, with illness and work, and I do hope to come back and write more someday as a series of stories. I am thrilled at the requests for more, and I hope to fulfill your wishes.


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